


but i'll find peace in my ending

by indecisivelarry



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Dunkirk owns my ass so I hope you enjoy having your ass on fire too, Fluff and Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, let's pretend English is my first language and this is actually good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-20
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-15 02:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11796933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indecisivelarry/pseuds/indecisivelarry
Summary: The boy speaks again but this time is barely a whisper. “You know,  I’ve been calling you ‘freckles boy’ in my head since I first saw you”, he’s picking at the dirt between his nails looking down at his lap like maybe his mouth spoke before his brain and is surprised by his own confession.





	but i'll find peace in my ending

**Author's Note:**

> "I looked at all the trees and didn’t know what to do.
> 
> A box made out of leaves.  
> What else was in the woods? A heart, closing. Nevertheless.
> 
> Everyone needs a place. It shouldn’t be inside of someone else.  
> I kept my mind on the moon. Cold moon, long nights moon.
> 
> From the landscape: a sense of scale.  
> From the dead: a sense of scale.
> 
> I turned my back on the story. A sense of superiority.  
> Everything casts a shadow.
> 
> Your body told me in a dream it’s never been afraid of anything."
> 
> -Richard Siken, Detail of the Woods

The countryside is running besides him, a blur of green and light blue. If Tommy only looks at the window he can pretend he's visiting his cousins in London, not going to a base camp after almost dying in German hands. He's restless, no matter how many times he tried to shut his eyes, a noise startles him and his whole body is in attack mode again, his hands into fists, his eyes alert. He wonders if he'll ever be able to sleep again.

With a sigh Tommy looks at the soldier in front of him. Half awake, half asleep. He’s been doing that for the last twenty minutes. Pretending sleep will come to him , perhaps he's a little more optimistic than himself. He’s too tall to find a comfortable position, and if Tommy’s brutally honest with himself the boy’s grumpy face shouldn’t make him feel as broken as he does.

A few days ago he saved his life. It feels strange putting it that way, he only pulled him out of the water after all, just his instinct. Before joining the army he thought he would feel like a hero every goddamn day, saving fellow comrades from their doom like a fairy god mother sent from above. But now that he knows what really happens in the battle field he only feels useless. Yes, he saved a few, but not all, and death shouldn’t be decided by fucking luck.

He’ll never forget the boy’s face the second his head came out of the ocean. Before he saw the color of his eyes, he saw terror. He remembers studying the human emotions in second grade with Miss. Jones. “What’s the opposite of calmness kids?”, “Sadness!” “ Surprise!” “Fear!”

Terror it was.

“If you’re done looking at me like I’m the bloody Mona Lisa can you please give me your apple? You’re not gonna eat it, are you?”

The deep voice startles Tommy. The boy’s looking at him with tired eyes and the tiniest trace of a smirk on his mouth. First time seeing that, Tommy thinks.

“Yeah, you can have it”, he says as he slides his forgotten fruit to the soldier’s already waiting hands at the table.

“Thank you mate”, and with a big bite he’s now looking at the window like maybe they are not going to a base camp, like maybe this is his ride home. Although for the first time in months, Tommy feels like he could be much much worse than this.

For a couple minutes the only sound that’s heard is the crunch of the apple being devoured by the boy. The sun light is peering through the window illuminating half the boy’s face from the bottom of his mouth to the top of his head. His face is covered in oil, dry and messy on his features. Tommy’s eyes travel from his chin to his big mouth, to his big nose, to his…

Green. The greenest Tommy has ever seen. Not like the fields besides them. No, green like emeralds, the one on the Queen’s crown, green like the deep deep waters. The sunlight makes it look like their shinning and Tommy’s never been interested in anyone’s eye color but right now he feels like-

“Are you okay there mate?”, the boy says with his mouth full, “You look a bit pale”. His tone is playful but his eyes tell another story, he genuinely wants to know.

Tommy clears his throat and prays to whoever is above them that he’s not blushing like a pervert.

“I’m fine a bit tired still, is all”, Tommy says a bit conscious over his whole body. He’s been by this person’s side for days and now in this moment he feels like it’s the first time they’re properly meeting. It all seems so bizarre, feeling like he’s seated with a stranger when he knows what his face looks like when he thinks he’s about to die, when he knows his breathing pattern when he’s shaking with cold, when he knows the tremor in his voice as much as he knows the darkness in his eyes when he feels hopeless. 

The boy looks at him for a painful slow minute, and then he’s attention is back to his half eaten apple.

More silence settles between them. Their wagon is quiet as a church, all the soldiers sleeping in painful positions. With all the stillness and the softness of this fragile moment, they all finally look like their ages. Twenty years old, twenty one, twenty two, twenty three…kids taking a nap.

The boy speaks again but this time is barely a whisper. “You know, I’ve been calling you ‘freckles boy’ in my head since I first saw you”, he’s picking at the dirt between his nails looking down at his lap like maybe his mouth spoke before his brain and is surprised by his own confession. 

Tommy blinks and waits for a punchline that never comes. “Oh”, surely no one has ever pointed out his freckles since he was a little kid. The young soldier looks at him after a few seconds and finally says: “My name’s Alex”.

It feels like something just broke, or maybe like something came together, it's hard to tell. 

“Tommy”, he says and it feels like something big, he decides.

Alex is properly looking at him now, smiling softly, with his dimples out and he looks younger than ever. Who gives a fuck about a name when you’re at war? You’re another one in a long list of human sacrifices. A son? A brother? A student? Fuck that , you’re a number. No soldier even bothers to present himself, it’s a waste of time, of energy.

Tommy shakes his head and his mind is back in reality. Alex is still looking at him, but now he's smirking and if that’s a normal occurrence in his face Tommy’s not going to be able to form any coherent sentence in his presence. 

“Look at us meeting like two normal lads”, he says ironic as anyone can be. It takes Tommy by surprise and he finds himself laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Alex starts laughing too, which earns a few irritated grunts from the other sleeping soldiers around them. Right, maybe not a suitable moment to be giggling like idiots.

Tommy looks at Alex, from the other side of the table and he’s looking back at him with the unmistakably glow of a feeling left behind a long time ago: hope.

_________________________

The thing about codependency is that it may became a synonym for safety and at times like these your nails will claw to it for dear life.

They have been staying at the base camp for a week now, resting, eating and preparing themselves for the next round. The initial lightness of the first few days disappeared and transformed into anxiety again. Where will they send them? Will they separate them into large groups, tiny groups?

Tommy and Alex tried not to think too much about it. They fill their days hiding from their superiors and sleeping beneath the trees' shadows a few miles away from the base, they figure they’ve earned it. They play cards with the other soldiers, often mocked as “the dream duo”, when there’s absolutely nothing dreamy about them, just two broken kids who don’t seem to be able to separate themselves for more than a few minutes.

They take walks along the river near the barricades, Alex doing most of the talking as Tommy struggles more each day to put his thoughts into words. He has never liked talking much anyway. Alex doesn’t seem to mind, he talks and talks and talks. About nothing, about everything. He doesn’t seem to be able to control himself and Tommy commits every single phrase to memory. Alex talks about his home, his little sister, his friends who he doesn’t know if they are alive. He doesn’t even look at Tommy most of the time, he spits his words with anger and bitterness, with sorrow and pain.

One afternoon Alex starts speaking out of the blue about Gibson, how he saw him die, how he dreams about him drowning but this time his hands are the ones pushing him down to the water.

They are sitting side by side on the grass, throwing rocks at the river. “I think about him every day, I see his face in every soldier”, he says while examining a tiny brown rock, “and I fucking deserve it, this and more”. Tommy is looking at his profile, the way his jaw contracts, the shame in his eyes.

“You did what you think it was correct at that time and that’s the only thing that matters” Tommy hears himself say and it’s probably the longest he’s talked that day.

Alex scoffs, “You don’t understand-"

“I wasn’t an angel that day either, Alex. None of us were, but you can’t torture yourself for the rest of your life, God knows there was no evilness in our hearts”, Tommy insists. He’s already spend countless hours thinking about Gibson and how heartless Alex was with him and everybody around him. But now he knows how wrong he was. He has spent every hour of the day with Alex and he'd be lying if said that he's not one of the sweetest persons he's ever met. Sure, he's cocky and egocentric, a sense of superiority that makes him want to punch him more times than he's willing to admit. But Tommy also knows the Alex that silently gives his dessert at lunch to the kid that couldn't stop crying the night before. He knows the Alex that writes four pages long letters to his grandmother. He knows the Alex that sits by his side and holds him when he's having a panic attack in the middle of the day. It would be so easy to ignore all that and only see Alex as heartless, no one is looking that close. But not him, he takes pride in knowing the real Alex. Alex is no monster, just a bloody kid trying to stay alive and how can that be wrong?

“I don’t bloody care about God I just never thought I was that kind of person”. He’s tearing grass from the ground now, stiff and concentrated in his hands. “The person I thought I was before war is not who I found myself with when a gun was put in my hand and it’s making me lose my mind”. He concludes, defeated.

“And that’s okay”, Tommy searches for Alex shoulder and grips it, hard, he wants him to understand. “Defining who you are when fighting for your life is not fair”.

_________________________

At night, they prefer to sleep outside the barricades, they’re fine with their sleeping bags. They barely talk. It’s at that time that reality seems to really catch up with them, just a few more days of fake sense of safety before they are thrown into battle again. 

Alex sleeps with his back on the ground, facing the sky. His face glows with the moonlight and Tommy allows himself to look. He knows it won’t last, he knows Alex’s warm body will be gone and he knows he’ll forget his name and he fucking hates himself for feeling already heartbroken at that thought. Attachment during war is not the best idea but from the moment they stepped on that train it felt wrong to separate himself from him. Now his name tastes like safety , like victory, like something that’s going to hurt like hell.

Tommy looks at Alex’s mouth and, not for the first time in his life, wishes he was a girl. 

_________________________

It’s their sixth day at the camp in the afternoon when the news arrive: they’ll be divide into two regiments, the one going back to fight in France and the other one in the Pacific.

It wasn’t like they didn’t suspect if before, but thinking and knowing are two different things and for a moment Tommy thinks his legs are going to give out.

Alex is right next to Tommy, and he knows, he fucking knows he’s going to the Pacific. They decided to divide the groups by age and experience, and that's all the confirmation they need to know they won’t be together.

When the general allows them to continue with their normal activities, Tommy practically runs to the river, Alex right behind him.

“Whoa whoa whoa drama queen, slow the fuck down”, Alex shouts while catching up with Tommy and turning his shoulder to look at him. “No need to do that. I’m the only one watching your dramatics”.

Tommy has the urgent need to punch Alex in the nose. How can he look so unfazed about what just happened?. He’s looking at him like he’s crazy, like it’s not big deal, like they haven’t been nail and dirt for more than they have expected to.

“Fuck off”, Tommy says between teeth while getting off Alex’s grip. 

“Fine, I’ll be at the bar with the lads”, and with one last look at Tommy’s back Alex starts walking back to the base.

Now Tommy’s running. The fastest since Dunkirk’s beach. He doesn’t want anyone to see him crying. What a cliche, a teenage soldier bawling his eyes out in the middle of a war, he’s disgusted with himself. 

_________________________

That night Tommy fakes he’s asleep when Alex settles down with his sleeping-bag beside him. They haven’t talked since the afternoon. Tommy’s back is facing Alex and he tries not to think about how these are going to be their last hours together.

When it’s absolutely quiet and Tommy is sure there’s not going to be any type of conversation Alex begins.

“You can quit the ‘I’m asleep act’ now because frankly you’re not fooling anyone”

Tommy stops breathing, but he doesn’t move, he is not going to talk. None of the things he wants to say will matter anyways. You’re leaving, you’re leaving, you’re leaving.

“I’m sorry about earlier”, Alex continues anyway, like Tommy is actively participating in the exchange. His words are slow and sound painful. It takes a couple minutes for Alex to talk again like he can’t quite find his voice one more time.

“You and I, we saved each other. In more ways than anyone will ever understand and for that I’ll always be grateful”. This is the softest Tommy has ever heard Alex speak, and his chest aches.

“I-I need you to understand how hard it is for me to say goodbye to you”, and with that Tommy slowly starts turning back, facing Alex. 

“Hi”, Alex says a little breathless and relieved, he's scratching the back of his head. Even in the darkness Tommy can see the scarlet that’s blossoming in his cheeks, he looks breathtaking and thinks about how he has never made a girl blush before.

“I hope you can forgive me for what I’m about to do next”, and with one hand Alex cups Tommy’s confused face and brings him close to his. Tommy tries to relax, keep his breathing steady. Doesn't want to give too much away with his fast heartbeat. Alex’s thumb caresses the other boy’s cheek like he can’t quite believe how close they are. Tommy doesn’t understand and he’s furious.

“If you’re fucking playing with me I swear-”, and before he can finish his sentence Alex’s mouth is on his and his mind goes blank.

Their lips slide together, slow at first, tentative. It’s too much and nothing at all. Tommy moves his hand to the back of Alex head bringing them closer closer closer. Tommy lets out a heavy breath through his nose, letting his jaw go slack and Alex deepen the kiss. It's been too long.

Alex breaks the kiss for moment, Tommy’s knows he looks vulnerable but he can’t help it. Alex traces the shape of Tommy’s mouth with his thumb and smiles with his dimples, crinkles by his eyes. “You’re so beautiful”, he whispers.

“Look who the hell is talking”, Tommy replies breathless. Alex just chuckles and starts peppering kisses all over Tommy’s face. His eyelids, his cheeks, his jaw, his nose.

Tommy is smiling so hard it hurts but he doesn’t even try to stop Alex, he feels liken he’s floating. They keep on kissing until their teeth collide because their smiles are too big, until Alex decides to compliment Tommy again, until Tommy calls him an idiot, until they forget what’s happening the following morning. 

_________________________

The train station is messy, noisy with unsaid goodbyes and hands holding on too tightly. 

The train that’s going to separate them is waiting, almost mockingly. Tommy and Alex are side by side, their reflection looking back at them on the train’s windows. Alex is slightly taller than Tommy, his hands in his pockets and a small bag on his shoulder. 

They don’t have much longer, they know this, as the huge mass of soldiers is boarding the train.

Alex makes the first move, of course he fucking does. He grips both Tommy’s shoulders, and looks at him with determination.

“Listen closely because I’m not saying it again understood?”, Tommy nods. Alex’s grip tightens.

“I don’t care where I’m going today because I know where I’ll come back to when this bloody war is over”, he’s looking at him with so many emotions in his eyes, Tommy wishes he could separate and analyze every single one of them, but the last soldiers are getting in the train and all he manages to do is put his arms around Alex and hide a single tear in his neck. Alex circles his own arms around Tommy’s middle and time slows down even for just a fraction.

“You stay fucking alive Alex, you promise me that”

In the middle of the crowd Alex quickly kisses Tommy’s cheekbone and whispers: “We’ll find each other freckles boy, that is a promise”

Tommy believes him.

**Author's Note:**

> The poor amount of alex/tommy fics is, quite frankly, a disgrace and I hope this shitty piece inspires you to write something better.


End file.
